COLUMNS THE UNBEATEN PATH

Whitewater Wisdom

MATT SHIPLEY (HE/HIM) Columnist

You open your eyes slowly, dew frosting your eyelashes. You shake the sand off of your hands, then use them to rub the sleep out of your eyes. The river whispers against the beach, shushing an unseen chorus of songbirds. Your senses begin to wander. You catch the faint scent of pancakes, cooking on an open flame in the middle of a collapsible aluminum kitchen. Mountains split the sky in all directions, towering steeply above the river canyon like huge stone guardians. Far above you, the sky glistens a rose-tinted gold, the eastern peaks’ shadows dappling the western mountains with little kisses of early-morning sunlight. There’s still so much to see, but you drop your gaze and wrap your arms around your own chest. It’s freezing.

Heraclitus once said “a man never steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.” I agree. Idaho’s Salmon River is a magical place, one that entrances me every time I return. In my life, I’ve spent a total of nearly two months deep within that canyon, hiking, kayaking and rafting with my friends. As soon as you set off from the put-in, you’re on your own—you would have to hike at least fifty miles from any point on the river to find yourself in cell service. The whitewater is tricky, but not dangerous, the hikes are nothing short of epic, and the beaches are pristine. You can spend up to six nights floating the 92-mile stretch of whitewater, and every night is spent on spacious, natural beaches that look like the hand of Mother Nature crafted them perfectly to be camped on.

Back to you: the sun has finally overtaken the beach. You stuff your sleeping equipment in a sturdy rubber dry bag, hearing shouts and laughter from the shore where the majority of the crew is busy loading the rafts. You seal the bag and drag it over to Steve’s Red Rocket, by far the fastest raft in your flotilla, and he clips it into a complicated series of straps that you can’t begin to understand. At least on this boat, you can pass it off as rocket science. The other boats— Randy’s, Matt’s, Mark’s and April’s, along with a colourful gaggle of kayaks, are already setting off. Hurriedly, you leap into Mark’s eighteen-foot gear raft, trying not to get your feet wet in the process and shivering violently when you fail. It’s still cold out, but not for much longer.

Throughout the day, you drop into numerous rapids, some more fear-inspiring than others. While at first you shy away from the spray, within an hour the temperature has risen nearly thirty degrees and you can’t keep yourself out of the water. You visit a hot spring, its pool carefully balanced atop a poison-ivy-infested scree slope. The shade is welcome, but not as much as the hot water. Even though it’s at least thirty-five degrees out, the silty minerals in the sulfur-rich water have a way of soothing even the most stubborn skin. When you leap hungrily into the river after your soak, you feel like you’re experiencing the cold water with a whole new array of senses.

It’s not the whitewater that draws me back to Idaho’s Salmon River every year. It’s that subliminal, mystical delight that stems from being as far away from normalcy as I can be. My phone becomes a distant memory by the end of the trip. The closest thing to a shower is the river itself, in which you’re not allowed to dump soap for obvious reasons. Video games become campfire games. Learning is suddenly fun—learning to read the water, to operate a raft, to tie knots. Normal life tends to break down exploratory spirits, forcing us into a life governed by money and rules. To let that go and bring back my childish penchant for adventure, just for a week, is the best thing I have ever done for myself.

Try being a child sometime. You’ll never want to go back.

Being the Queer-Coded Villain

RAIN MARIE (SHE/THEY) Columnist

I’ve always considered myself a very proud and vocal member of the 2SLGBTQQIA+ community. Despite the fact that coming to understand my gender and sexuality has been a constant journey that I still am on today, I feel like I have overcome a lot of internal and external biases towards my identity. But, some biases have dug themselves too deep under my own skin to be able to simply overcome them.

The idea of Queer thoughts, actions, or behaviours being perceived as predatory, specifically the idea of the “Predatory Lesbian” was cemented into my mind at a very young age. Most of my first introductions to Queer characters in media came from queer-coded villains, such as HIM from Powerpuff Girls, Ursula from The Little Mermaid, or Trunchbull from Matilda, and characters whose queer behaviour was framed as predatory such as, Janis’s alleged crush on Regina in Mean Girls, Cynthia Rose’s entire characterization in Pitch Perfect, or Kurt’s feelings for Finn in the first season of Glee In my mind, there were two ways that the world perceived lesbians. Either as predatory or as a category of porn. All these images of what being Queer meant infected my own feelings towards my sexuality and grew into a heavy knot of internalized homophobia. One that I could not pull out of me no matter how hard I tried.

Although I have been very lucky in having a supportive community around me as I grew—and for many of my friends, me coming out didn’t change our relationship at all—the people where my relationship changed unfortunately had a deeper impact. Girls who were very physical people often stopped touching me and as a response, I learned to take a step back as well. I became a lot more physical with my male-identifying friends and was only physical with female friends my brain decided were “safe” friends.

Other than these few safe friends, the idea of touching other women was terrifying. What if it made them uncomfortable? What if they thought I had feelings for them? These kinds of questions dug their heavy claws in the back of my shoulders and had me pulling back from many people.

There’s an unspoken list of rules that developed in my mind to avoid being perceived as predatory. They are as follows: don’t let your touches linger, always keep your eyes on the ground in a changeroom, don’t tease or flirt unless with anyone who has not initiated it, and always keep your compliments casual and friendly.

The overthinking and fear only spiralled and worsened in me as I began to grow older and develop crushes. I started seeing myself as dirty and wrong from having something as simple as casual feelings for a girl.

Not all crushes are mutual, in fact, most are not. Especially, as I was, attending a high school with so few people, experiencing mutual feelings is truly more of a once in a blue moon sort of thing. Logically, in my head, I knew this and I knew that when on the other side of this situation, learning about someone else’s unrequited feelings for me would not change my perspective of them at all. In fact, it generally resulted in my own guilt for not being able to feel the same way about them. Still, though, the fear continued.

In Grade 12, as I entered my first ever Queer relationship, I remembered thinking, “hey, this is it, this is when the fear stops.” And it did lessen—whether that was through a lot of mental retraining, or if it was the knowledge that someone I liked was both not uncomfortable with my feelings towards them and actually returned them is still a mystery to me. But unfortunately, a fear that is built that deep into you doesn’t just slip away like that.

Being able to slip into the routine of showing or initiating affection didn't come naturally to me. The constant fear of doing something wrong or making her uncomfortable still held tight to me and slowed me down.

Leaving high school brought a whole slate of different problems. By this time, I was single again, living in Lethbridge (which had an even smaller Queer community than Calgary had), and incredibly tired of feeling like this. Romance was hard, scary and painful, and sex and casual relationships just seemed a hell of a lot easier. If I could see myself and someone who only existed in the fun and casual party scene of university, I didn’t have to worry about caring about or whether they cared for me. And it worked for a while, but emotions are not made to be controlled and contained like that.

As time goes on, I make connections and develop feelings— sometimes they work out and sometimes they don’t. I met more Queer people, and although no one’s experience is exactly the same, learning the similarities in the things we’ve all experienced is a truly comforting and vindicating experience. The fear still sits there. It’s smaller now and easier to understand. Maybe it will never truly leave. Maybe I’m just meant to grow around it.

Check your sun (the sign everyone knows, identity, ego), moon (emotional), & rising (how you come off to others).

Dates for sun sign:

VIRGO

(Aug. 23 – Sep. 22)

Sometimes retreating into yourself is a call to alchemize your creativity for the future. This is one of those times.

LIBRA

(Sep. 23 – Oct. 22)

Libra, you’re in your home element this month. Justice, renewal, and reflecting on these themes from the previous mercury retrograde in your sign are prevalent. Know that you made the right decision to move on.

SCORPIO

(Oct. 23 – Nov. 21)

Your body is asking you to pause and rest, but you insist on going forward. Why? Take this month as a sabbatical from the business of life to think, reflect, and simply be.

CAPRICORN

(Dec. 22 – Jan. 19)

There is a need to let go of something this month, a desire that your heart has been carrying for a while. Stop and smell the roses, commune with the trees. You may find that the answers come to you easily and effortlessly when you do.

PISCES

(Feb. 19 – Mar. 20)

This month may be heavier for you, you may feel as if your mind is hurting your heart more and more. Although it may feel like it, you are not alone, support is all around you, but only if you let it in.

TAURUS

(Apr. 20 – May 20)

Now is not the time to neglect yourself, in fact, it never is. This month, take a look at how you may be overgiving and burning yourself out.

CANCER

(Jun. 21 – Jul. 22)

Divine opportunities don’t always come in shiny clear packages. Sometimes the blessing is disguised in the loss of an opportunity, don’t forget that rejection is divine protection.

SAGITTARIUS

(Nov. 22 – Dec. 21)

Lovely human, this month is YOUR month! This month is ripe with opportunities for rest, abundance, and self-love, enjoy it and receive!

AQUARIUS

(Jan. 20 – Feb. 18)

If this month feels a little extra slow and tender, that is okay. Let your mind rest and your heart be nourished with creative expression to ease your soul.

ARIES

(Mar. 21 – Apr. 19)

The seeds you planted long ago are still in hibernation, but do not despair, the right moment is coming. Take this time to pause and reflect whether this is what you really want.

GEMINI

(May 21 – Jun. 20)

Dear Gemini, please have some compassion for yourself, healing is not linear, and neither is your journey. The universe has you here for a reason, you’re exactly where you need to be right now in order for divine knowledge to come.

LEO (Jul. 23 – Aug 22)

Everything's coming together for you, Leo! Although life may not be perfect, you have taken the necessary steps to level up your life. Enjoy and receive.